


Yesterday and Today

by orphan_account



Category: Beatles, McLennon - Fandom, The Beatles, classic rock - Fandom
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-10 15:59:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3296276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	1. Chapter 1

**(Johns POV)**

**July 6th, 1957.**

 

It was a hot summers day, the sun beaming down on my band and I as my cheeks began to burn. I danced all over the stage watching the crowd for Mimi, Julia, me mum, and me wee little sisters, I tapped my feet and danced around in enjoyment. My band, The Quarrymen, and I were at yet another gig, getting paid in merely a couple beers, but I suppose it was worth it. We had high hopes of becoming something bigger, something entirely better than what we were, or what seemed like just another skiffle group popping up in old Liverpool, or England for that matter. 

 

It was awhile before our performance ended and mum had a glistening smile upon her face, girls had been winking at the band and a few played with their hair or skirts. It was good to watch, our community all coming together for a big event and all of us having a good time, although I knew many faces, which a lot were not very fond of me. I was in college at the time, art college, and noticed a young blonde from my lettering class in the audience near me mum with a smile practically implanted between her cheeks as she stared at me. I believe we knew her by 'Miss Prim' because she had been from Hoylake but other than that we had rarely spoke. She must have heard and even believed the rumors about me, I usually brushed them off and hardly knew any of them, but some were completely outlandish.

 

Once the performance had been over I felt a light tap on me shoulder as my lads, (me band) and I got our beer paid in full, chugging back bottle by bottle all the while taking drags off cigarettes. I turned to face whomever wanted me and saw me friend Ivan, smirked at him and did a once over of the young lad who was next to him, raising my eyebrows and taking a drag off my cigarette, puffing the smoke in his face.

 

"What do ya twits want?" I asked harshly, only because I had been drinking and was a bit tired.

"Well," Ivan started and then continued, "this is my schoolmate, Paul." He finished.

"And?" I helped him continue.

"Well he wants to join ya band." He replied.

"Show me what ya got." I mumbled under my ciggie, watching him pull out a guitar that was almost bigger than him, eyebrows raised and arms crossed along my chest. He began playing Eddie Cochran's 'Twenty Flight Rock,' as impressed as I was with his playing, his age was the only problem. Even looking at him, he looked like a baby chipmunk. He knew all the chords, the notes, the tune even (I couldn't tune me own guitar.) and all the lyrics. 

"Ay, I'm John," I shook his hand after he had finished then continuing with, "Sorry son, ya too young."

 

He bowed his head down and walked away, looks of disappointment brushed over his face and I knew I had immediately regretted the decision. I phoned him, or met with him, god if I can remember, to tell him he was in fact, in the band. Happiness practically made its way from his ears and down into his system as he grabbed my hand and took me to his house.

 

"Don't worry, my dad doesn't mind if we play at my place!" He shouted at me over the searing winds.

 

I chuckled and tried keeping up with him, out of breath at the arrival of his house, entering it and examining practically everything. I went over to a table that contained a vase of flowers, smelling them, also a phone, and some photos in nicely made frames, giving it a once over and immediately asking "Is this your mum?"

 

He came over to me and took the photo, nodding and I asked "well does she mind ya becomin a whole rock star?"

His hands slipped into his pockets as I watched his hip bones rub against his leather jeans, finally answering "she would have loved it, she passed a year ago, cancer."

 

My arm immediately went around his shoulder and I comforted him, no hesitation. He brought me over to the living room and the couches were floral print, he talked about how they changed nothing since his mum died. I offered my condolences and then we got to practicing. I hadn't known very much, not even how to tune it correctly. I watched him, he effortlessly made it all look so simple as he plucked away at a six-string with so much ease, he looked relax, and in his happy place. I smirked as I plucked the few chords I knew as he watched me struggle, smirking and almost laughing to himself, I felt embarrassed and my cheeks turned red. He was so beautiful just to look at, as if he was taken more time on and was perfect, it struck me in a moment of practical amazement.

 

"So eh, why don't ya teach me how to tune it without breakin' all the strings," I asked in a very quiet demeanor. 

"Ah yeah," I watched as he set his guitar down, pick in his mouth and glided my hands up the neck of the guitar.

"Right 'ere," mumbling with the pick stuck between his teeth, placing my hand on the body of the guitar, telling me to strum as I tuned it. 

"Can ya read sheet music?" He asked me, I had to pluck up enough courage to reply as I knew he was not only expecting, but awaiting a response, but as I couldn't I just shook my head.

"That's quite alright, I never learned meself either," He seemed so confident and sure of himself, and then there was me, insecure and envious of the man whom had it all.

 

I raised my head as my necked tensed, watching him in admiration. He was naturally beautiful and I was envious, jealous almost, I wish I could sway, possibly even woo the ladies that way. His cheeks, chubby (like a chipmunks) mouth small and subtle, but with kissable lips. I tried not to stare but it was almost impossible as his features just made you want to stare for longer and more intensely. I turned my focus back onto the guitar and the notes he was attempting to teach me but he kept pulling these eyes that I was sure were come-to-bed eyes. I looked away anytime they came up and we began tapping our feet in unison, singing and playing chords. 

 

I began over-thinking about all of this, getting progressively overwhelmed when all of a sudden I heard his guitar hit the ground and mine did as well, feeling him grip the collar of my shirt and pull me in for a kiss. It was wet and sloppy and unexpected but it was nice with a lot of touchy-feely hands on action, I never pictured myself in this situation, or position, but as the kiss went on I relaxed and felt safe and secure, I was shocked, actually at the fact that he even pursued me. I never imagined myself gay, but I now realized I never really have experimented with my sexuality. But this, this all seemed so sudden but also as if it was a sure thing.

 

Paul, even just by kissing you, had a way of making you feel loved, or as if he was yours and you were his for the keeping. His lips just grasped everything you could never put into words and did all the talking for you. He was the epitome of perfection and probably the only thing anyone could ever really want in life. Every ounce of him was put into perfection, from his voice down to his hands. Paul was inevitably beautiful and I could never ask for anyone, or anything more, but it was all so sudden and felt so rushed. Pulling himself off of me he began to fix the collar of my shirt.

 

I gasped before realizing where I was, "That was uh, something," I mumbled under my breath.

One of his eyebrows rose and he had a slight smile smeared out on his face, "Well did ya at least enjoy it?" He asked.

I did, and once all the thoughts in my mind cleared I knew I had wanted yet another kiss from him, but was afraid to ask, "It was incredibly nice," I reassured him. Then I thought, maybe he just did this to assure his place in the band, or possibly thanking me for allowing him into the band, whatever it was, I don't know. All I know is, it was the fifties and being gay was something that was viewed as increasingly wrong, at least not very in Liverpool.

 

Days went by and I befriended 'Miss Prim' in me lettering class, she was nice and was always kind to me, she asked me about the rumors and I disproved them all, telling her the truth. We got along quite nicely and I began calling her 'Cyn,' she noticed the gesture and asked me if I had any secrets one day after lettering class, I admitted to her that I had been gay and she looked a bit taken aback but promised to never tell anyone and eventually when she was with me and Paul, was happy for us both. She became one of my best friends whom of which I shared just about everything with, I told her my past and about how I was brought up, just as I had Paul. Her story was rather boring other than the fact her father had passed about a year earlier, I gave my sympathy to her, groped my guitar case and leather jacket, pecked her forehead and went off on my journey towards home.

 

Everything had been getting increasingly overwhelming as Mimi was constantly nagging about something, particularly my grades, but I just wasn't interested in doing as well as I could in school. She pressed me for information and I rubbed my forehead and went off to visit mum. I went off to mum and Bobby's and upon arrival to Bobby's house he had pulled me outside and informed me that Julia had died, an off-duty cop hit her and suddenly I just wanted to break down, more than I had when Uncle George passed. I ran off as fast as I could back to Liverpool, shedding a couple tears on the way and once I hit home, I stood outside on the sidewalk and outside of the fence, contemplating even bothering going in. I threw my jacket towards the house in anger and ran off to Paul's.

 

Once there I ruthlessly knocked on the door to see a tired Paul, eyes red with bags underneath and he had gestured me in. I sat on his couch as he brought me some tea, his dad had been in bed and I just stared down at my hands that were clasped around the tea. I took sips every so often and leaned my head onto Paul's shoulder, of course, even if his dad had been awake he had no issue with us being together. Paul's dad was always supportive of him, no matter of his sexuality, that never really bothered or got to him. Paul ran his hand down my back and played with my hair, I let all the tears flow out and sink into his shirt as he situated himself, laid out on the couch and I laid between his spread legs. My head rested on his chest and he rubbed my back while whispering, "It's alright John, I got you, I got you, it's all going to be okay, I promise I'll make it okay." He kissed my head and we slept on the very uncomfortable couch.


	2. Chapter 2

**(Pauls POV)**

 

**September 30th, 1961.**

 

Years had passed since John and I met and our relationship was just beginning, we had plans to get married, even if we couldn't legally, rings would do just fine. He was always caring, loving and gentle, sometimes harsh but I always knew how to get underneath his exterior armor he had built. It wasn't hard but for some people he just refused and pushed them away, but as for me I always seemed to have a way of undermining it, I never knew exactly how but it worked every time. He was a complex being and maybe that is what was part of what attracted me to him.

 

John told me all about how he was brought up, and in that moment I could see that he wanted a loving and caring figure in his life because he had lost both of his resorts. He was simply a lost and hurt human being suffering through a mindset that he wasn't good enough because he could never please and or appeal to Mimi. Whatever the case may be, I knew I'd never stop loving him. When we were around others we had to be secret and subtle about everything we did, said and even couldn't share too long of glances, but it was all worth it because in the early days we were mostly by ourselves and the others hadn't cared. 

 

I eventually introduced John to George, a schoolmate I had and George had taught both John and I so much and he was a good energy to have around and John had seen that from the start, allowing him into the group with only one thing he hadn't liked; his age. But eventually that went away because he saw how good at guitar George had been, learning he was self taught. George didn't care and neither did Pete, or Stuart for that matter, and if they did they never said anything. Although I was always secretly jealous of Stuart because of the closeness he and John shared, but I knew John loved me.

 

John took me up to his Aunt Harrie's in Edinburgh to meet her and Norman, her husband. I was excited yet worried that they may not accept me, or us but I had high hopes because the rest of John's family hadn't said much and if they did it was supportive, all except Mimi, then again she didn't know about us. Mimi was always strict but she liked the way the media portrayed her as the 'stern yet loving' aunt, yet that was not the case because on more than one occasion she has been physical with John. He knew she was disappointed in him but she couldn't keep him under her thumb forever, he needed to get out, explore and venture into new things, I suppose she never understood or got that, reflecting on her past.

 

Maybe she was jealous of Johns freedom or even envious of it, she never seemed please with what she had and she took it out on John. He needed someone like me, or even better to fulfill his needs of a loving figure, but I had to take my mind off of it because I knew I'd probably never be enough for him, not ideal enough, not forever at least, just for the time being.

 

I was insecure as ever because John was just as dashingly handsome as the day I had met him, he was turning 21 and hadn't aged a bit since he was fucking 17, not even his maturity level. He was upbeat for the venture to his aunts and the entire time, in our private booth on the train he was all over me. Hands on action clasping my shirt and tie as we gasped for air, hair messy as my throbber began to get harder as time passed. I was sitting on his lap and all I wanted to do was ride him then and there, but the cabin was too tight but god things got hot so fast.

 

As we heard passengers stream by we cleaned ourselves up, noticing the train had stopped and he pulled me off into the bright world of Edinburgh, it was glorious really to be abroad, I had only been to Hamburg but this, Scotland, was a whole nother story. It was whispy as you watched the blades of grass blow with the breeze and the entire time in the cab, with the little bit of money we had left, John clasped my hand the entire time. Nervous I suppose, at what he was supposed to say to his auntie, I covered his hand with my free one and gave a comforting smile.

 

"'Tis alright love," I began, only in a whisper, "I'm sure she'll still love ya." He smiled at me reassuringly but I knew he was still casting doubt.

 

John, never a big fan of confrontation (and I, knowing I'd have to do the talking tonight) was always fearful of the outcome and so he always ran from it, as far as he could and as fast. He especially hated dealing with Mimi, but then again she was always irritable. I hadn't realized what time had passed once I awoke but we had arrived and John jumped cheerfully towards his aunties door, screaming with joy and practically excited to see everyone.

 

The door had opened and we were invited in with welcoming, and loving, faces. Their house was spick and span with children running wild, I had no idea how she possibly ran a ship that tight. I made her acquaintance and told her my position in John's life, truthfully but I said it so matter-of-factly that she didn't look surprised at all, in fact she was accepting and hadn't cared much about it, she knew John was still the John she had known and loved and was even more excited that he had found someone so loving, it seemed to her. I was the lucky one, if anything. John was so extravagant, so extraordinary and mindblowing and god the things he says, he takes the words right out of me.

 

Aunt Harrie piled us with sweet treats and with nobody else in the room, asked us casually about our relationship. It was surprising to me, especially then to see someone so positive about it.

 

"So how long have ya two been together?" She began, John clutched onto my thigh and the clasp on it made me suck air in through my teeth.

"About four years," once she heard that her eyebrows raised.

"And ya still haven't put a ring on each others fingers? Bah!" She exclaimed, and if anything I'd definitely want her, of all people out of Johns family to be at the wedding.

"When or no wait, where did ya meet?" She smiled at us, a look of closure that she wasn't going to tell Mimi, and it made me relieved. John even let out a sigh.

"Well, me band and I were performing down in some event in old Liverpool, god if I can recall, but he asked to join us and we just grew from there. He has taught me so much and is lovely to be and have around." John spit out and she gave me a once over, not approving of either of our leather, but we hadn't cared. Johns hand moved from my thigh to clutching my hand.

"That sounds quite beautiful Johnny, it's so great to see ya finding true love and being happy with someone who really understands ya. I hope it lasts for a long time." She smiled and came over to sit next to us, wrapping her arm around me as I became increasingly uncomfortable.

"You sure got yourself a handsome one here John! He has quite nice features and a glorious profile, you both are entirely too handsome for your own good!" Harrie was lovely and got up in a jiff almost as if there was something burning. She darted in and out of the room before I could even bat an eye.

Handing something to John, he was hesitant to take it but his fingers made their way around whatever the gift had held. It was £100 and he was taken aback, gleaming at Harrie with uncertain eyes as to whether he should take it or give it back.

"Harrie, what?" John asked with innocence sprinkled onto his voice.

"Early birthday gift, maybe do somethin' special for old Paulie over there, eh?" She clicked her tongue and almost gave us a wink but just in that moment everyone had came rushing in. John and I scooted away from each other as John was still gawking in amazement at the £100 he received. But I on the other hand couldn't help but stare at him, he was everything and I was practically a small portion of his life, only there for the moment, the experience. Now that I think about it, we'd never been together if we weren't in the same band.

 

I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck as I headed up to the room Harrie had given us for the night, mattresses and ash trays but I hadn't mind, it was all John really had in Stuart's room anyhow. I chucked my jacket onto the floor and kicked my boots off, listening to them hit the hardwood, crawled into bed and pulled the blanket over myself. I heard the door open and immediately knew it was John, they gave us two mattresses but John and I both knew we'd rather squeeze into the same bed. His shoes clunked off of him and his jacket laid on top of mine and he plopped down onto the bed with me, wrapping his arm around me and kissing my neck.

 

Pulling me onto my back as he began to grind into me, throwing my head back and letting out a light moan. Covering my mouth as I attempted to undo his belt and pants, feeling him slip out of them as he began on mine. I pulled him down by his shirt, leaving marks on his neck and collarbones (I had to mark my territory.) as he then began slipping me out of my leather briefs he had gotten me while in Hamburg. I bit my lip as I watched him, in the dim-litted room thanks to the moon peering in by the windows, pull his off and climb back on top of me. He reached for his jacket and pulled out the small bottle of lubricant he brought with us in case. Lathering his fingers in it as he spread my legs and I felt one, or two fingers enter me. I couldn't tell, my head was swimming.

 

As he began to stretch me I got harder and harder, biting my lip and practically begging for it, which I knew he loved. I felt his head at my entrance and a small thrust into me, my hands went wild on his shoulders, back whatever I could grasp underneath the thin cloth along his upper body. I was moaning his name as he swore, sweating and bit my neck. It was a night full of love and lust and I was out of breath, feeling my hair stick to me. John, beginning to get faster and harder was on the verge of coming and I was too. He stared at me with a smile on his face as he muttered, "come on baby, I got you."

 

Not long after I came and we were sticky, sweaty and tired. Once again back in the position we were before we made love he played with the hairs on the back of my neck and I felt his breath hit it. I rolled over to face him and brushed the hair out of his face, and pecked his nose, he shook his head and giggled, the best sound you could ever possibly hear. He held my hand and I rolled closer and he wrapped me in his arms, kissing my sweaty forehead and clutching me out of anguish I suppose, maybe neediness.

 

Putting space between us he began to speak, and as always we spent all night talking.

 

"Ay, love, do ya want to go to Spain?" He asked me, in a tired voice.

I gazed at him for a moment, shocked all of a sudden at his need to explore, to be abroad, to be anywhere but home. "Y-yes of course, but with what money?" That was a stupid question considering I probably already knew the answer.

"My birthday money of course silly, what else?" Replying with a joking tone and I rolled my eyes.

"But ya should use that to get ya somethin' nice." I reassured him, he looked at me with the most sincere expression I had ever seen anyone put on.

"I already got everything I need, now let me treat my everything to something nice." I could hear the tenseness in his voice, he needed me to say yes, and even if I didn't I had no choice in the matter, once John had his mind set on something he was going to put it into motion.

"I don't think you should waste it on me, but I know I have no choice in this so I'll just have to accept." It was nice, the gesture, the thought of going away with John. 

 

We fell asleep at three, I was in his arms, we had gotten three hours of sleep before waking at six, deciding to head out. We left a note for Harrie and I thanked her for letting me stay, John thanked her and Norman for the money. I pulled on my boots and jacket, buckling my belt as John pushed me towards a wall, smiling at me as I smirked back. We both giggled as we kissed each other, he clutched my face and I pulled him closer by his waist, hearing him laugh, seeing him smile was the best thing I could ever witness, could ever even ask for.

 

He pulled me by my arm and dragged me throughout the house, rushing out the front door yet being ever so quiet enough not to wake anyone. We giggled as we ran down the streets and to find a cab, sticking out our thumbs hoping someone will give us a lift. Eventually as someone stopped, we told him where to take us as we wrote down new song ideas on tiny pieces of scraps John carried in his pockets.

 

"That's somethin' you can use with ya birthday money!" I shouted loud enough so he could hear me over the mans music.

"What's that?" He asked.

"A tiny pocket book!" He laughed and wrote something on my hand, sloppy, but readable I glared at what read "I love you Paul, yes, yes, yes its true! I love you Paul, so please love me too!"

 

I smiled at him and he smirked back, allowing his dimples to show and god, if they weren't the most beautiful dimples you had ever seen then I would have thought you were crazy. I decided to catch up on sleep, leaning against the door of the car and drifting away at the sight of the clouds. 

 

When I felt myself slam against the seat in front of me, hearing John laugh at me, I ran towards the train station to get back to Liverpool. I wasn't exactly sure what the plan was, or what John had in store for us but all I knew is I wanted to be with him, wherever. I knew we had to focus on gigs and songwriting and whatever the fuck else, but I was too stressed and just wanted to get away from it all for awhile. When we were back in Liverpool we got asked for our autographs a couple times, which was exhilarating, overwhelming and unbelievable. Stuart was now living in Hamburg with his wife, Astrid who was lovely and a good friend of ours so John had to move back in with Mimi which meant we rarely got alone time, thank god we had this trip to look forward to.

 

We decided to head to Mimi's, hands in our pockets and trudging through the winds, all just to tell her what we were up to. I on the other hand hadn't cared much to tell my father, for as far as he was concerned or even knew I was still in Edinburgh visiting his Auntie Harrie. Once we arrived to Mimi's she just stared at John with a cold and cruel expression, as if she was angered at something John had done, but he couldn't have possibly done anything because we were away and Mimi, according to John, didn't seem very in-a-mood when he had left. He went upstairs and packed some things into a bag, clothes, notebooks and pens and dragged me to my house.

 

Stopping along the way as he noticed a dark back alley, pulling me into it and tugging his bag off of his shoulder, pushing me against a wall and kissing my neck. I knew what he wanted, whenever he gets this way its always a need of an urgent quickie, not even a shag but his favourite thing of my many talents was my skill at giving head. He says I was 'trained by the head giving gods' but he also thinks I 'had a lot of practice on other guys,' but he was my first and I'd never allow him to know that.

 

I got down on my knees and kissed his hips, knowing that his head and shoulder blades were digging into the brick. I undid his belt and pants and pulled them down along with his briefs, getting to business. I took him completely, but slowly into my mouth, he tried to keep his moans at a minimum level but he could hardly control himself. Swearing, letting out fucks and shits, along with my name attached somewhere in there. I felt him come into my mouth and like always I lick everything I can up, trying to not let him or me get sticky (but it always is around my mouth.)

 

After that he darted with me down the street to his house, I packed the essentials and a few extras, getting my bass and a guitar for him. We wore bowler hats, attempting to look older, more mature, once again holding our thumbs out for someone. Once they had stopped we told them our destination was Spain, but once I had finally realized where they stopped we were in Paris. We looked around, gasped, took in everything in amazement, it was astonishing, astounding to be in a city this big, this busy. We got our bags, instruments and rain off, not even caring that we hadn't gotten to Spain but just glad we got a few days off. 

 

Cluttering in through the door of the cheapest hotel we could (probably) find and asking for a room, John took the room key in his mouth and we laughed the entire way up to our room. John, closing the door behind me immediately brought me over to the bed and we cuddled, I was tired from all the traveling, the hitchhiking and whatever else and I knew John didn't want to deal with any of it. We pulled off our pants and climbed into bed, making promises to each other, one was to never leave each other, the other was to tell each other everything.

 

"'Ey Paul?" John whispered into the dark.

"Yes John?" I answered.

"Would ya ever marry me?" I'm sure he already knew the answer to this.

"Of course ya goof." Why wouldn't I?

"Well, see I got these rings and I know it doesn't mean that we are married but as long as are, in our minds, than we are ours, forever. Nobody elses, I am bound to you as you are to me." John was trying to be good with words, but confrontation of his feelings was never one of his strong suits.

 

He gently placed the ring on my ring finger of my left hand, kissing my forehead and rubbing my back as he sung me to sleep. It was a big day for us and the ending to it was just divine, I never thought that I'd have gotten married in a place as romantic as Paris, but then again I always found myself wanting to be the one to ask. Whatever it was, I now was John's until the day we died, and I had absolutely no problem with that. I knew we would last a long time.


	3. Chapter 3

**(Johns POV)**

 

**July 6th, 1964.**

 

So much has happened in the last few years, and all it took was one. From traveling to Hamburg and Liverpool back to back in sweaty, dingy, dark and even depressing clubs, we were here, at the day of the premiere for our first movie. We went from being The Quarrymen, to Johnny and the Moondogs, to The Silver Beatles, to finally just The Beatles, and every step along the way I've had Paul with me, and my good friend, and now cover-up girlfriend, Cynthia. Paul had Jane and her and Cynthia both got along quite nicely, we tried to be seen in the public eye as much as possible together so they'd never quite catch on to me and Paul.

 

It was stressful, the singles, the LPS, the having to hide my husband from the media when all I wanted was to be able to go to a public event with my hand wrapped in his. We'd gone to America earlier this year and we could hardly leave our hotel room, and that was another thing I was tired of, but it gave me and Paul a chance to stay away from the crazed fans and the even more psychotic media. I hate not having the advantage of freedom as I used to, I took it for granted, we all did. George was also seeing a nice young lady, whom of which we went to Tahiti with, and our holiday was nice. Her name was Pattie, Pattie Boyd whom had a role in our movie, she said one whole line and George was practically swooning over her. I could see why, believe me, long blonde hair, and even longer legs, she was gorgeous, her eyes, smile and whatever else. I was happy for him, we all were. 

 

We had replaced Pete, our previous drummer, and good friend, with a new drummer who was in a different group, Rory Storm and the Hurricanes. Ringo, Ringo Starr, he was a good laugh and better friend, he also had a lover and that was Mo' or Maureen, she was just as beautiful as any of the other 'Beatles girls' as they called them. She was brown haired and just as tall, even almost taller than Ringo who was a short, easy, simple-minded lad. Honestly any of the 'Beatles girls' could be models, in fact, Pattie was. It was just so nice to be in a room full of love and tonight it'd be even better, the premiere mixed with us all arriving with our girlfriends.

 

I was also thinking about my old friend, and former band member, Stuart Sutcliffe. He was a big part of my life and one of my most trustworthy friends. I lost him about two years ago, I knew Paul was never close to him but, after his death Paul was sympathetic. He passed due to a brain hemorrhage and his death took its toll not only on me, but Astrid as well. Seeing her was hard, I knew she was more depressed than me but I did all I could to get her out of that stage. She was strong and I knew she had to move on, its what Stuart would want for her, which was always the best.

 

I think Stuart would be proud of us, of how far we came. No matter how bad of a bassist he was, I was always inferior to him because of how amazing he was an artist. Plus, he was incredibly handsome so there was always that, hanging over my head. I was incredibly insecure, even next to Paul, especially next to Paul.

 

Cynthia didn't mind and neither did Jane having to pretend to be our love interests, as they had secret boyfriends they also had to hide from the press. Anyhow, Paul and I were now living together in a small flat, but as I now, having a kid with Cynthia, I knew we needed more room. It wasn't ever enough for when her and Julian came to visit, plus I had a room full of toys for that boy that haven't even been put together.

 

It was now just a few hours until the premiere of our movie, A Hard Day's Night, title based off of the song and now album, it came from Ringo, but I wasn't anywhere near being ready. I wanted to look good for Paul, although I knew we'd all essentially be wearing the same thing. Our manager, Brian Epstein, and good friend, always hated our leather and told us we should ditch it, putting us in suits so we look like a pack of monkeys. Brian though, "always knew best," supposedly and always made me hide Cynthia from the press and I just couldn't do that anymore because she was my friend and I practically took her everywhere and anywhere with us anyhow.

 

When we performed on the Ed Sullivan show (huge event for us) it became public that I was "married" to Cynthia, although everyone knew I wasn't, well, at least everyone that mattered to me. Cynthia was helping me with my bow-tie, making sure it was aligned correctly and that my shirt was as straight as it could get under my suit jacket. She smiled at me, telling me I looked as handsome as ever, and she, in her dress she'd picked out specifically for this event, looked just as beautiful as always.

 

We went to our cab with our personal driver, hand in hand, but I knew I couldn't keep up the charade that I was actually with her, I was unhappy and all I wanted to do was be able to hold Paul's hand in public. On our way to the premiere I hummed a few old tunes that were my favourites, we pulled up behind Paul's car and our chauffeur opened the door and I saw Paul I was immediately overwhelmed. I grabbed Cynthias hand to help her out of the car, but all I could stare at was Paul, who looked so fucking good in his suit and looked just as overwhelmed to see me. Like we always do, we went up to each other, shook hands and went off down the red carpet. Of course, that could mean something else in Paul's case, Jane being a red head and all.

 

Entering the theater, taking drags off my ciggie out of nerves as Paul came over to me, offering me a drink. I glared around at all the press, the reporters as Paul whispered in my ear something I couldn't make out entirely, only a few words. Paul was crumbling and playing with a straw wrapper in his hand, arm hair peeking out the end of his sleeves and that was another one of my favourite things about him, but who's wasn't it? He had massive amounts of arm hair and it worked well on him. Listen to me, rambling about this perfect fucking mans fucking arm hair when there are so many other things I could fucking go on and on about.

 

I smiled at him as he made a joke and I offered him a ciggie, his callused fingers practically wrapped around mine and then and there did I want to lose it, but I knew I couldn't. It was all based off of and around secrecy and I was so tired of it, I just wanted to not give a fuck and kiss my husband whenever I wanted in public, I wanted everyone to know how much I loved him in vivid fucking detail. It's not fair, it's not fair that everyone can go in public and hold hands and kiss and I can't even stare at the man I married for more than two seconds. 

 

I was bitter, I was angry because all I wanted was a chance at happiness in the public eye with my husband, with the man I fell in love with and married to. It was all just so infuriating but I knew I couldn't change it and I just had to live with it, to suffer with it. It was getting to the point where it was so unbearable, but Paul was so casual about everything, answering questions voluntarily and when I was all choked up.

 

"What was the inspiration, or meaning I suppose for this film?" One reporter asked.

"Ah, well" I heard Paul began, "it was all mostly for fun, but also to give all the fans out there an inside look on the Beatles lives. How pressured we are to be ready for gigs, to do specific things and how protective Ringo is 'ere over his drums." Paul laughed as I watched his drink splash around in his cup, patting Ringo's shoulder. The press laughed as we all did.

"Now, I'd expect a response like that out of John, certainly not you Paul!" A seemingly pristine female reporter exclaimed, I wanted to roll my eyes and for this to all be over with. Paul leaned onto me, wanting to, meaning to whisper something to me. But what it felt was like he was attempting to kiss my neck, or ear, I couldn't tell. I brushed him off, reminding him of where we were. 

 

He was drunk and wanted to run off and have sex somewhere, I could just tell. He used to get like that in the early days, I listened to Ringo saying something hilarious regarding the movie and tried to turn Pauls focus on him as well. We all raised our glasses, yelled "AMEN!" at whatever it was Ringo had said, I didn't pay attention to most of it as I was trying to peel Paul off of me. I chugged back my drink just as everyone else had and sat my glass down, walking off with Cynthia towards some room, any room. I needed to talk, I needed to vent and all I wanted was for Paul to understand, to show correspondence.

 

She knew something was wrong and immediately asked me what had been wrong but once again, I was choked up and couldn't manage a single word out. Paul walked in and we went off somewhere private, I felt like I owed him, I needed to make it up to him. Once in privacy, I gripped his crotch and smiled at him as he bit his lip, throwing his head back and eyes immediately going shut. I unbuttoned and zipped them, pulling them down first, briefs followed soon enough and I kissed and bit at his neck, collarbones, whatever portion of skin my lips could cover. I made sure they were in someplace his outfit would be covering so Eppy wouldn't yell at us. 

 

I began pumping him, short strokes that were slow as I gained speed and he had to try to keep himself quiet. Gripping my shoulders, my arms, hips, whatever he could possibly get his hands on. I figured he could just come on my shirt since it'd look like Cynthia and I did something. Just in that moment of almost hitting the spot he lost it and jumped onto me, pulling off my clothes one by one, undoing my bow-tie and almost ripping my suit jacket. I knew we probably had time for a quickie but people would be noticing we were gone, but it hadn't mattered, all that mattered is that we were here, now and the events that were taking place.

 

"I know nobody tells ya this enough Johnny, but I'm so proud of you, I'm so fucking proud of you. Of us. For how far we have come, for showing everyone who doubted us that we could make it. Fuck everyone who ever doubted us, doubted you. I'm so honored to know you, to be yours." He was drunk, spilling out his feelings, his thoughts one by one. Paul had told me that every love ballad he wrote was for me, as mine were for him.

 

No matter how much I was told or how much I knew Paul was mine, was wrapped around my finger I was always jealous of Jane. She pulled off everything so nicely and was so nonchalant around Paul, she was so fucking casual and I wanted that. I was envious. I wanted to be able to leave the house with my hand wrapped around his and tell the world how much I love him. 

 

I was sitting there drenched in sweat as Paul eagerly stripped me from my pants, briefs coming off with them, noticing how hard I was, eyes widening but also becoming suggestive.

 

"I wanna ride ya Johnny, please let me ride ya." He whispered, being out of breath, his forehead pressed against mine and I nodded. He pulled out lubricant, as if he had brought it because this was his plan all along. Paul smoothed it across my fingers and I pressed two into him, stretching him as he flinched but let out a moan. Once he was ready, and most certain, I shoved my cock inside him as he began to ride me. It felt so fucking good, his hips, his callused hands running across my body, him. I loved his smell as well, he specifically had a certain smell that just smelled of home. He was a great lover and I honestly couldn't be without him.

 

As he was placed, well spread out, across my lap riding me I leaned up and kissed his torso, nipples, ribs, stomach, chest, collarbones, neck, shoulders, wherever was visible and could be covered. Paul on the other hand hadn't intended me being able to hide it so he left a hickey on my upper neck. Paul was riding me faster and faster and god he was saying my name like a chant. I rubbed his throbber as he looked at me with the most innocent look he could probably ever give you. He came into my hand and made me swallow it all, putting my hand to my mouth as I came inside him. 

 

We hurriedly got dressed and cleaned ourselves up as I immediately met up with Cynthia. Her and Jane had kept themselves, and the press busy for us. We kissed their foreheads and laughed at George's bickering and Ringo's jokes with the reporters. If Brian was concerned to admit to everyone that I had a "wife" because of the image I think he ought to be more concerned about our smartass ways. We headed into the theater as I sat next to Cynthia.

 

"John are you feeling better?" She asked me, I nodded and we sat in "exclusive" seats for us for the screening of the movie, Paul with Jane sat next to me and in the darkness of the theater our hands intertwined, nobody noticed as far as we knew. His hand moving from my own hand to my thigh and then my crotch even, he teased and tortured me as he gave me the look of bedroom eyes and I looked at him as if I was in pain. I was ready to beg for it but I knew we had to wait, I brought his hand back into mine and kissed him in secrecy. Cheeks, nose, forehead, lips, it was all too surreal and all so nice being able to kiss in public under the dim lights of the movie theater. We hadn't even payed any attention to the movie as we were too preoccupied in each other.

 

Hands on, lips conjoining, tongues delving at one another, it was sloppy, crazy and wet but god Pauls kisses left you wanting more. He was candy that I craved, he was the drug that I desperately needed and kissing him filled the void. We told each other jokes, laughed and had several more drinks, that night we were foolish and reckless for the first time in a long time, and we didn't care. It was nice being able to have physical contact with the man I yearned for.


	4. Chapter 4

**(Pauls POV)**

 

**August 27th, 1967.**

 

We had just received the news that Brian had died from an "accidental" overdose and we were all taking it horribly, especially John. John took it the worst. It isn't as if John wasn't on and or already doing drugs, I knew he had a secret stash he had taken with us to India, although he had "sworn off" drugs to the Maharishi. John was a completely different man on drugs, I know I can't act innocent or say anything about it though without being hypocritical because I myself did LSD. I preferred marijuana though. But John on the other-hand was in love with LSD and it was shocking. It isn't like it was this wonderful, new invention. But, what did I know.

 

John threw himself into drugs after Brians death and it took its toll on all of us, me especially. He was completely emotionless while high and it haunted me, struck me almost. It surprised me and threw me off a bit, it wasn't the loving and caring John I had known. With the ending touring of The Beatles we had so much time to spend together but John hadn't been spending very much time with me anymore. It was hard to cope with the fact that our relationship, our marriage, our life we had built together was now falling apart. It was coming undone by the seams and I don't think I could handle it much longer. Once back in London, in Kenwood (the house John and I had together,) I called Jane to invite her over for tea and chips.

 

When she finally arrived she was sympathetic, caring, and listening to everything I had to say. She offered her condolences in case things continued to go down hill, both John wise and for Brian. I didn't just blame John, I had also blamed myself. I had been stressed and hadn't been putting much effort or giving him enough of my time or attention, and I knew John needed me now more than ever.

 

We talked for hours and it was nice, she was pleasant and a good company to have around, I loved always seeing her new styles of hair and dresses. She caught me up on her work and how things were going. She was always positive and loved listening to other peoples problems, she loved to help them. Jane was a good person and you could just get that from being around her. I sent Jane on her way and I readied up the house, eager for John's arrival.

 

Once alone I began to overthink, what if John does leave me? What if he doesn't love me anymore, what if he found someone else, someone better, someone who's able to relate to him when he was high. I missed Brian, he was always a good friend and an even better manager, I knew he was depressive and anxious and so many other fucking things but goddamn I could never, none of us could ever replace him. He was there at all of our weddings, George of whom was the last one to marry. It was just difficult for us all to cope with our loss, with the bond we had all shared with Brian. I knew John was out there getting acid so he could "cope."

 

Getting sick and tired of John revolving his life around acid, around something that shouldn't be able to outnumber me, something that shouldn't be able to grasp onto my husband more than I did. I knew he was losing hope and as he did, so was I. I just wanted John, my John, the one I knew and still love back. But nothing I could say or do convinced him to stop doing drugs, no matter how badly it affected me.

 

I was certain and ready to fight for him, to save our marriage and I would do anything it'd take to save our marriage, our life, everything we have together. I knew it'd be hard, I knew it was going to be a challenge, but he is all I have and he is my entire world. I knew this wasn't affecting only me, I couldn't imagine what it must be doing to Cynthia and Julian. I knew they must have hated to see John in this state, I knew he was experimenting but god he was fucking addicted and I just needed him addicted to me. I should be the key part of his attention, I need it and crave it, I fucking crave him more than anything. God fucking dammit.

 

Once John arrived home I was happy, at ease, up-in-arms to see him, he was gleaming but god I knew his health was at risk. He was skinnier and the drugs were taking so much life out of him, it killed me to see him like that. It'd been going on for so long now and I knew it wasn't easy for him to quit, John was never good at cold turkey. When John entered the house he gave me a cold glare, it was cutting and deep and I hadn't known how to respond. I decided to try to break the wall he was building between us.

 

"Hey honey, how was your day?" I asked, I supposed seeming a bit too uppity as I followed him into the kitchen like a little puppy dog.

He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, looking at me as if he was vulnerable only at this moment but he just seemed to have brushed me off, ignored me, and completely pretended I didn't exist. As I watched him exit the kitchen I grabbed a plate and threw it against the wall, listening to the unbearable sound of the glass breaking. I sunk to the ground as I cupped my head in my hands.

"You're fucking ruining us, John. You're ruining us and if you do I will never forgive you." I said in a stern yet formal seeming voice, John turned on his heels and looked at me with the sadness emerging from his eyes. I couldn't stand it, I could not fucking stand it to see him like that.

"You can't just shut me out after all I've done for you, that I've given you. Who was there for you when your mum died? Who the fuck was always there when Mimi was 'too much' for you to handle? I was, I fucking was always there for you John, you can't just do this to me and throw me away. I should mean more to you than this!" I pulled the baggie full of acid strips from his pocket and dumped them all in the trash.

"Fuck you if you can't see that," I finished, storming out of the kitchen and slammed the door to our bedroom, the room, the house we shared and I couldn't handle this, the overwhelming feeling that everything we had been, that we had shared was coming to an end. I needed him to fucking push me, to push our boundaries but all he did was test his own loyalty and realized I'm not what he wanted.

 

I was foolish to think we still had years together, I was foolish to think we'd be together forever. I knew the feeling would wear off, it would vanish and disappear, I just wasn't ready for it so soon. I had to become assertive, put my foot down and make John fall in love with me all over again like he had acid. I fell asleep crying that night all because I wanted to forget it, I wanted to forget everything, especially where I was.

 

The next morning I awoke and saw John next to me, I was happy, but I knew that wouldn't last long. I was distressed and swept up the bits of glass that I had broke last night. I just wanted our relationship to be stable but fuck it, it wasn't worth it if this is how it was going to turn out everyday/night. I wasn't sure what to do, so I decided before he awoke I'd be gone.

 

I showered and got ready for the day as quietly as possible, putting on some of clothes and a tie that had been his. I knew I shouldn't have taken it, more or less should have worn it. I glared at him, peaceful with the world while resting at 6 AM. He had his shaggy haircut still from when it was cut for How I Won the War and god did it look damn good. I had the urge to go over and run my fingers through it, but I knew that would wake him. I wrote him a note, left the ring he had given me the night we decided to get married in Paris and packed all my things.

 

The note read:

 

_August 1967:_

_My John, my dear, poor, lost and confused John, I'm glad you've found what makes you happy, at ease and what puts your mind to rest. I'm sorry it wasn't me, I'm sorry things have to end this way and I'm sorry a lot of things didn't work out like the way we wanted, or the way we planned. Things were much easier in the earlier days, no stress on the singles, the LPs, etc. I know we had to hide a lot then as well, but we weren't trapped inside our house. I'm sorry we never returned to Paris on a just-you-and-me holiday like we promised. I'm sorry you let the drugs get to you more than me, I'm sorry you fell in love with LSD more than you ever had with me. I know this note won't change a damn thing, but I need you to know how sorry I am. This isn't about Paris, this isn't about the earlier days, or the days we met or the fucking memories we share, this is about how lost I am, how lost I feel without you giving me some guidance. Some persistence._

_I need ya like mad Johnny, I always have and you know that. We are the best together not just as song-writing partners, but fuck, married, together, we love and support each other no matter our fuck ups, our mistakes. I just want to take it back to a time when drugs weren't important to us, we were. We were the most important things in each others lives. Back to Scotland, back to Hamburg, to home. You're home. When I feel your muscles clasp around my body at night I know I'm fucking home. I guess I won't get that feeling anymore._

_I know that things are over, things are taking a turn and not in the direction we wanted them. I hope you know my heart aches for you, I'm constantly worried about and for you and I never know how to word things. This letter itself is a waste of my time and yours, I know you won't read it. It'll just sit on the nightstand under my ring until you bother to come down from being high. I was looking at photos of Paris today and remembered the lost little boy you were when we first met. So hurt, so lost and confused. Still are._

_The only difference is now, you don't need me. You're grown and don't rely on me any longer, instead you rely and put all your time into LSD, the one and only thing that seems to make you happy, bring you joy anymore. I don't mean to be cruel, I don't mean to hurt you, and I know you don't to me either but the truth is; I just can't take anymore of the pain your putting on me._

_I can't sit at home, up half of the night waiting for you to come home, worried out of my goddamned mind for someone who may or may not bother to actually turn up. I'm afraid I might not love you as much as you used to love me, or just how much you are now in love with your new-found infatuation with drugs. I'm glad they lift you higher than I ever did, making you feel better than what ever will be in my power._

_I will never stop loving you John Winston fucking Lennon, I can't, you're a part of my system now. My daily schedule, my favourite sound, just to hear you mumble to yourself or simply to breathe was all I really needed. You're my mindset, my whole world revolves around you but you can't fucking see that and until you do, then I don't know. I know nothing will change, you won't care how this affects me because you're too emotionless from the drugs._

_I still remember the glimmer I first saw in your eyes when I looked into them, how cruel you were to me when we first met. The first fucking night we spent together and how good you smelled god fuck its all so nostalgic._

_Look, I know you'll never forgive me for giving up on our marriage and I'll never forgive myself, but I'll never be able to emotionally, to stably live my life without you by my side. I'll always regret the time I wasted of yours, I'll always regret leaving you and I know that when you come to terms, when you realize, you'll regret abusing drugs and losing me, I hope at least._

_I miss in the early days when we'd run off in secrecy and dance to old records together. I miss when you lived with Stuart and he didn't mind when we were using his place to make love. I miss when we'd have some plans to hitchhike somewhere, in uncomfortable leather, getting into anyone's car we could. I've been so angry and sad lately because of all this, but I think what I most did was confused the things I missed with loving you, which is nothing compared to you, to loving you. Nothing could compare to you._

_I'm glad you've never had to read all my letters, they're so fucking wordy and lengthy. I'm sorry John, I'm just so fucking sorry._

_I will never love another just as much as I love you, here and now, and that is the truth._

_Yours,_

_Paul._

 

I decided to say a few words before I left but "goodbye beautiful, it was nice seeing you," was all that came out. I sighed, wanting to clutch his hand one last time but I knew I had to live without his fingers in mine. I grabbed the guitars and the basses that were mine, knowing that he would send whatever else he found that was mine to me, grabbing all my suitcases and heading out for the cab.

 

I pressed my nose and cheeks to the cold glass and took one last look at Kenwood, in the home we shared and the place I learned to love and hate due to the best and worst memorable moments of my life. I let out a sigh and told the cab driver where to take me. I stared out the window as we drove off leaving my previous life with John behind, it was heartbreaking and definitely the worse decision of my life. But I knew someone who would make him happy would come along and eventually I was proven right. And yet again this was the biggest regret of my life. I let him slip away, out of my hands and into the world of drugs, of something I should have seen coming but should have also done my best to keep him away from and protect him from. It was too late now.

I left that day without a second thought, without thinking the impact or placement this would put John in. I was certain of two things; number one was that he was the only man I was sure I'd ever love. The memories we share are enough to sustain me throughout my days alone. Number two was that I knew I'd never stop owing him, I'd never stop being fucking sorry. My revenge plan was to take just as much acid, be just as emotionless and put my foot down in the band, someone had to anyway, why not me?

 

Arriving late at Jane's house she let me come in with all my bags and out of anger, I kissed her. I smothered her in wet and sloppy yet needy seeming kisses. She didn't push me off or send me away instead she encouraged this and I suggested we get married. She agreed and I couldn't believe myself, I couldn't believe I was doing all this to piss of John, to get back at him.

 

Laying there in the guest room of her house as I stared up at the ceiling in the dark with only the moonlight shining in as I recalled the night at his aunt Harrie's in Edinburgh. Then it hit me, I sat up immediately when it clicked in me. All the letters, the phone calls, John being absent from home, he was having an affair. That night I again cried myself to sleep and was hesitant to even bother waking up the next morning. I spent a lot of time in the following weeks even wondering if he noticed I was gone or if it would matter if I died or not.

 

The answer was no, it wouldn't. John would be too drugged out of his mind to show any kind of feeling and the only ones who would really give a shit was my family. George was angry with me for trying to set the band on a different path, but I don't know about Ringo. I just felt so left out of everything within the band and now I didn't even have John. It was so hard to settle into life without him, he became apart of my schedule.

 

I woke up early to make breakfast and he always came down to sit with me to brainstorm song ideas. We showered together every time and shared clothes, we fit into each other we were in perfect sync, perfect harmony, but something wicked had to come and wreck that. I will never forgive that vile woman for poisoning my husband, my fucking husband. God, I was such an idiot to have actually thought we would have been together forever but fuck the thought alone was closure enough to keep going. I was contemplating suicide daily and felt more and more useless, worthless. I hadn't heard anything from John and the press ran a story on me and Jane's "engagement."

 

I couldn't keep up this charade that I was okay, that everything was okay. Because if I did was bound to lose it any day now and I don't know if I'm fit at this moment to handle something like that. I was cracking up day by day and I knew that I needed something, a fix to take all this weight off of my shoulders. The days drew by, long and boring, uneventful as I purchased a furnished flat and I had no motivation to do much of anything. It was all spiraling out of control and I just didn't know how to handle the situation anymore. I spent much of my days in bed and not doing much else. Life was miserable, lonely, colourless and just all around bland without John.

 

Falling asleep shivering and crying that night as I dreamed of John.


	5. Chapter 5

**(John's POV)**

 

**April 10th, 1970.**

 

Things were beginning to get too much for me, for all of us. It wasn't just the four of us anymore, it never really was. We all had wives, or girlfriends, and now kids. Paul was married, or remarried I should say to an American photographer named Linda, Linda Eastman. She was sweet, good to have around and didn't make much trouble for anyone. We got on well but Paul and I didn't really ever say much to each other, it never occurred to us to try and patch things up, to try and make it better for ourselves.

 

We were all tired of Paul ruling over us with an iron fist, I was tired of everyone lashing out at my newly wed wife, Yoko, who I found a great connection with spiritually and artistically. She gave me an inspiration that nobody had really understood, nobody really saw what I did. It was hard for the others to accept all the new wives around, and Beatles fans were pissed off that I remarried to Yoko because in their eyes I was married to Cyn, who is still a good, close friend of mine. George was still with Pattie and Ringo was still with Mo. It was Paul and I whom had the new wives, had new lives with others and I knew, that still LSD was my biggest regret.

 

I fell in love with it, let it control me, control my life. I don't know why I let it get that out of hand but now, I was on much more than LSD. Cocaine, heroine were big parts of my life ever since I met Yoko. She tells me to "expand my horizons and explore new things," so I did with drugs. They were my best friend, there for me when I needed someone, something to take my mind off of everything but it was never fun coming down, in fact it was the worst feeling in the world. But it was nothing compared to Paul leaving me.

 

Paul left me 3 years ago and being without him has been the hardest 3 years of my life. I could hardly stand Yoko at times, she was so controlling, manipulative it seemed. It was awful and our marriage was fucked up, based completely around and off of drugs. I was unhappy but she was my muse, secretly never knowing it was still Paul. I threw myself into drugs, they were my world and my entire universe after Paul left, and it was an all around awful fucking time because Brian had just passed.

 

My pressures grew and as they did I became more unobservant to what was going on around me, in my life. I was itching to get out of my skin, to take a break from my life, be away from it all. I was tired and hadn't no idea of what to do, but the rest apparently did.

 

George was tired of being controlled and told what to do, being told no that he can't have a song on this album maybe the next. It wasn't just Paul, it was my doing as well and I couldn't just blame Paul for everything throughout the rest of my life. I blamed everyone else for so many things and never faced the truth, as I hated confrontation, it wasn't one of my strong suits. 

 

Ringo was tired of getting no credibility, tired of not being considered a Beatle. I didn't blame him, all the girl favored Paul and hated me since I married Yoko, girls were in shambles when they heard the news that Paul had married, and so was I.

 

The day that Paul married Linda was probably one of the worst days of my life, I was high from LSD and days prior I was on mass amounts of heroine, I wanted to feel better than him, to intimidate him. He was getting too big for himself and it was irritating us all. It was agonizing to see us all in this position, hatred filling for each other. I was in over my head and had no idea on how to mend things, or even if I could.

 

They all practically despised Yoko and hated what she was apparently doing to me. I hadn't noticed anything or much of a change but they all had and claimed that just having her around was a pain. It hurt me to see them having so much anger towards the woman I trusted and who made me happy and who I loved. But most of all the stress was getting to us, having to put out new LPs, with singles and the movies, we just didn't have time. Plus having to tend to our personal lives with our wives and kids. It was shocking to Paul, he said, that Yoko and I actually got married a bit after he and Linda did. Then again it stumped us all especially the ones who knew Paul and I were together.

 

We were at our peak and even now we were appealing more to the older crowd. Yoko and I were sitting in Abbey Road studios as the lawyers all wisped away, handing me legal documentations to confirm the Beatles break up, the law suits, etc. I was tired and just wanted to go home, Yoko clasped onto my hand and reassured me, it seemed, and I knew it was all going to be okay. Something wicked was happening and it was the end of an era, I knew we were all tired of each other and just wanted some peace. Some closure.

 

I smirked at Yoko who was watching my unsteady hands sign all the paperwork, it was hard and I was pressured just as I watched Paul walk in. It was so difficult just to even look at him. He was still the most beautiful thing in my eyes and god there wasn't a moment that passed when I wasn't thinking about him, only if I had said all the things I wanted to sooner. He leaned down on the desk across from me and I glared up at him.

 

I paused but decided to make conversation "H-hey."

"'Ey there John, how's it goin then?" How could he talk to me so casually? So nonchalantly? It's as if he blocked out all emotions for me.

"It's good, and are you alright?" I was hesitant of what to say and wanted to say all the right things to make him swoon over me again.

He chucked, "Yeah just about, pretty stressed but I'll be fine." He turned his attention to Yoko and tried being nice although I knew he despised her, "How ya doin' Yoko?"

"I'll be better once I'm out of here," her attitude changed when Paul was around and god if the way she treated him or talked to him didn't make me want to lose it then I dunno what. But god she was so much different from Paul, cold, emotionless and it seemed like she was using me for so much. I was just too foolish to realize it soon enough. Paul raised his eyebrows as if he was asking "Oh?"

I sniffled as I slid the paper across the desk to Paul, his eyes tracing over each word and examining it all as he clicked a pen. Signing it at the bottom and sliding it back across as he got up to leave. I was shocked at his performance but even more disgusted with Yoko's.

 

Paul came back with a copy of todays newspaper, slamming it down and pointing to an article. It was an interview with him and it confirmed Paul had stated he was leaving the Beatles.

 

This came as a shock and my heart immediately sunk, I looked at him with young and lustful eyes but he didn't take the hint. It was hard because I knew me saying I wanted a divorce a while back must have hurt him just the same. He was having to go through all of this, the divorce of the Bealtes like we had all over again as was I. It was hard and none of us had any idea what the future held for us all musically but I knew that whoever had Paul in their band was lucky. He was intelligent and knew how to use every damn piece of technology and knew just about how to play every fucking instrument. But maybe one day the Beatles will rejoice and bask in our glory, our achievements and we'll all get back together.

 

I knew that after Paul had left me he never looked at me the same again, at least not in a way that was full of love and passion. He was more fueled off of hatred for me, for hurting him the way I did. But that isn't fair, he left me at a time I was most vulnerable, shouldn't I get to be pissed, too? However that wasn't the case in Paul's eyes, I knew he blamed me and I just had to accept that. 

 

Day after day I think back to a time that Paul and I were together, I think about how we loved each other too much. I think that is what our greatest sins were, I knew Paul was pissed off at me and was ready to move on, he had a life with Linda and didn't want anything to do with me. I couldn't blame him.

 

"So what will ya plans be after all this?" I asked in a very quiet voice.

He was playing with something and bit his lip, looking for the right words to find to answer, "Hm," he thought for a moment "I'm not too sure yet, be a father to me girls and the best damn husband I can be." He seemed cruel, to have a cutting edge when he said those last few words.

It was hard to hear this from the man I once and still do love and I knew that he must have known then that even after we weren't together all my songs still were for him. 'Don't Let Me Down' was easily determined as one of my greater songs and was personally written for and about him. I clasped my hands together and patted the table out of nerves.

"What about you, then?" Paul suddenly asked, seeming interested. I perked up and cleared my throat, fixing my tie.

"Uh I-" I began as I trailed off, "I dunno yet, maybe try to adopt Yoko's daughter and all that, spend more time with Julian."

"You owe him," he immediately retorted back. I nodded in agreement and then asked if we could speak in privacy, to my excitement he agreed and we went off somewhere alone together. I assured Yoko I'd be right back as she sat alone in a room full of lawyers. 

We entered a room and stared at each other for a long moment before I clasped onto his bearded cheeks with my hands and kissed him. I had been longing to do that and god did it feel good. His hands traveled up and down my back as this became normal, we sunk back into each other all over again, soon placing his hand in mine. It was as if we were teenagers all over again. Love filled passionate kisses as it all came rushing back, he was my high.

 

It all came back to me at once, the nights we spent together, drunk and crying over how much we missed our mums, it was tragic and our relationship at times was fucked up but I missed it. I missed him. I looked him over and I just wanted to spend hours with him, telling him everything we did together, all the memories we shared. But I was too late, it all was crumbling and coming undone before my very eyes as the lawyers in the other room were settling the end of the Beatles. It was over because we had lost it, we had lost Paul. We had lost my muse to even bother to write music. Of course, I had to go along with the charade of Yoko.

 

I sighed and ran a hand across my forehead as I watched Paul exit the room and retreat back to all the lawyers, I knew he'd find someone else, he was Paul fucking McCartney. I don't know if Linda was that someone or she was there for support or what, but she must or should have known he was gay. If she did and still supported it and was okay with it then fuck he has himself a keeper, whereas Yoko is fucking racist. I really couldn't stand her at times. But most of all, as I sat across from Paul and Linda, I couldn't stand to see Pauls hand in anothers. I immediately got up and left the studio, calling for a cab as Yoko followed behind. It wasn't fair I know, why could I be emotionless and shut him out but he couldn't? I was just so jealous and he could see that. He knew what it was doing to me.

 

Once Yoko and I got home I spent the rest of the day and most of the night up and thinking about Paul, about the time he showed off all his assets to me while dressed in lingerie, and how his lips were so small yet so perfectly kissable and god when he spoke he only ever spoke with passion and seriousness. His eyes could make your knees crumble into dust and his hair was as silky smooth as a kitten, he could make you want to scream and cry and whatever else just by looking at you. I couldn't even look at him anymore as I was losing it.

 

I wrote in one of my journals that night about how much I missed him and how desperately I needed him back. But I knew it was over and as I finished the last sentence on the page with, 'I'm sorry Paul and I know I'll always be your biggest regret,' I turned off my bedside lamp and stashed my journal and pen away and crawled under the sheets of my bed. I sighed and fell quickly to sleep, sailing into a dream about Paul.

 

Waking at 3 am from the dream that twisted into a nightmare, heading out into my flats kitchen and fixing myself a glass of water. I had to convince myself it wasn't real, Paul didn't really think of me like a chump, a coward and he still loved me, still needed me just as much as I did him, that he missed me. It was crazy, hectic and even foolish of me to think he did. I wanted him like mad, like when we were teenagers and god it felt good but I was miserable. Trapped in a marriage to a woman whom not only intrigued me but thought she 'owned' me, and stuck between loving Paul. Paul was too good for me anyhow.

 

Paul wasn't a saint and neither was I, but if you didn't fall for Paul, maybe not by his dashingly and surprisingly good looks (by his father whom stated when he was born he cried because he was so ugly) then he'd find a way to charm you if he really wanted you, if he really wanted to spend his years looking out for you and analyzing everything you did, every move you made. He used to talk about how I'd hum when I'd shampoo or when I cooked or how I looked and talked and acted when I was high, he noticed how I was always anxious after getting a message from a psychic that I'd be shot while in the states, how I was always on edge and talking about being shot. 

 

He noticed and pointed out the smallest things about you and when he did he had a way that made it sound like he loved them, because he did. And god did I need that reassurance because I was feeling low. My self esteem was never high, especially around Paul, but when he was around and I was sure he loved me he made me feel like the most handsome man he ever laid eyes on. Paul just had this way about him, this thing, something, whatever it was and whatever it may be to make anyone feel special, to feel important and as if they mattered. Paul was just good that way, he put everyone before himself. 

 

I poured myself a glass of whiskey and chugged it back, letting it sink in as I put on a Beatles record, one of our early ones. It was 'With the Beatles' and I skipped right to 'All My Loving.' I felt more and more lonely as the night grew on and I sat on my leather sofa, whiskey in one hand and an empty glass in the other as I listened to what seemed to be mostly Paul. The night went on and on and I felt more sorrow, more regret for not only Paul but the little things, all my mistakes, all I have said. 

 

Missing not only Paul but Julian and Cynthia, I had been so cruel and spacious from them and I knew they needed me. I knew Julian needed his dad and I let out a sigh while pouring some whiskey and chuckling into the glass while sipping it back.

 

"This is the life ya made for yerself John, you're just as big of a fuck up in adulthood as you were a child. No wonder yer' fuckin' dad left." I trailed off into the bathroom and took a long look at myself in the mirror. I contemplated suicide for a long while that night but I knew it wouldn't be fair to let everyone down like that. I sighed and wiped my face, chucking the shot glass at the floor and placing the whiskey back on the counter. 

 

I slept on the couch that night, cold and alone and wishing, missing Pauls arms around me.


End file.
